


The One With the Eggplant

by in_motu_proprio



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, May/December Relationship, RST, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which they are hiding in far off places and Lizzie admits to never making real pasta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One With the Eggplant

Despite wearing a headscarf when she went out, Lizzie had dyed her hair dark now that they were finally in Tangier. He was grateful for that, grateful to be able to watch her reveal her real hair for him alone when she came home. He’d begun to think of their flat as just that. Home. That was dangerous. “It’s starting to get chilly,” Lizzie told him as she turned. Her hair fell in soft waves all around her shoulders, glinting slightly in the light. “I’m going to need to pick up some heavier scarves if we stay here much longer.” She folded the one she’d been wearing and set it on the shelf near the door with her keys and pocketbook. “There were some really beautiful eggplants at the market.” She set her shopping bag down on the counter and Raymond watched as she pulled out a nearly perfect eggplant. “I don’t know what to do with it, but I felt like I should get it.” 

Lizzie smiled at him and he returned it because she left him no choice. She never did. That smile of hers pulled his lips up to echo. “If you got the wine I asked for, then I have an idea.” Red moved to her, watching as she produced two nice bottles of red. “Open one of those and let it breathe,” he instructed as he unbuttoned the cuffs at his wrists. Lizzie’s eyes followed to the counter as the cufflinks chinked against the granite. “How do you feel about pasta?” They had been in Morocco for two weeks now and they were settling into routines, spending time together in the kitchen had become a welcome part of that. 

“Who doesn’t like pasta,” Lizzie asked with a wrinkled nose.

“Quite. What I meant was how do you feel about making pasta?” Lizzie’s brow rose. “Oh, dear. Tell me you have had fresh pasta in your life.” 

“Of course I have. I just don’t make it. Who _makes_ pasta?” 

Red poured himself a liberal glass of wine and then one for her, “in about ten minutes, you will. Change into something you don’t mind getting dirty. No matter how careful you are, flour does have a tendency to get everywhere.” Deciding to just go with it, Lizzie picked up her glass of wine and headed to her bedroom to change. 

When she emerged half a glass later, Raymond had already begun to measure out ingredients for pasta. She’d changed into an old t-shirt and jeans and pinned up her hair. She was radiant, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air outside, and Raymond lost his thought when he looked up at her. He covered with a little cough and then launched into a story about his grandmother and her arthritic hands as he measured out flour, eggs, water, and salt. He took his time, showing Lizzie each step. “You did wash your hands, didn’t you Lizzie?” She gave him a guilty look and went to the sink, giving him a little room to breathe. Sometimes he found that difficult around her. “Better. You may want an apron.” 

She pulled the one from the hook, looping it over her head as she fumbled with the tie behind her. “Tie me up.” Red flushed deeply, trying to process exactly what it was she was asking for. Lizzie turned, expecting Red to tie her apron, not thinking twice about giving him her back but smiling just a little bit because she was clearly being naughty in her phrasing. She looked over at him for a moment before he reached down to pick up the apron strings and carefully tie them in a neat bow at the middle of her back. HIs fingers lingered against the small of her back as he breathed in her perfume. She’d applied a little more when she changed. Interesting. 

“”Now we begin.” Lizzie watched as he began to mix, Raymond acutely aware of the flush in his cheeks. “Other than the eggplant, how was the market?” She slid in next to him and started to talk about the two contacts she’d gone there to meet as he watched the pins in her hair shift and slip as she overworked the dough. Raymond was listening, but more than that, he was watching her. She was terrible at first, but learned quickly. Her fingers were messy with flour and egg, but she took her time and thought it through as she mixed and rolled. Red watched and drank, occasionally redirecting her in her work. He put a pot of water on to boil and took the salt cellar from the counter next to Lizzie. She’d leaned forward and a stray lock fell into her eyes. Raymond watched her blow it out of her face twice before he put his hand on her shoulder. 

Lizzie paused, picking her hands up and keeping them over the counter. “Can you?” Raymond reached out, gently swiping it behind her ear. “Actually,” she nodded to the scarf. “Can you just tie it back? I tried to pin it and either they’re all slipping or they’re all jabbing me. No happy medium.” 

“A moment.” Raymond went to the book he was reading and opened it, pulling out a piece of ribbon he’d been using for a bookmark. He came back to Lizzie with it in his hand. “Turn.” She did and Raymond was grateful for the fact that he didn’t have to look her in the eye as he touched her hair. Raymond tried not to linger, but it was difficult when he’d given considerable thought to sinking his fingers into this very hair. He queued it back into a neat braid and tied the end with his ribbon, patting her shoulder when he’d finished with a half dozen bobby pins in his palm from her ill fated attempt. 

“Where did you learn how to braid hair?” Raymond felt the wounds that associated it with the question and he felt Lizzie tense up. She knew what she’d said so no reason to flail her over it. 

“You’ll need a little more moisture.” Raymond flicked a bit more water at her dough, then at her on impulse. She made an annoyed noise, but took her punishment like a good girl and let him run on about how to properly salt eggplant so it wouldn’t become bitter when they cooked it. As he cooked, Lizzie stayed close. It wasn’t as though there was much option, though. The kitchen was somewhat small. Hell, everything here was small, but Raymond was grateful he had the place tucked away for just an occasion like this. The fact that there were two bedrooms made him grateful as well. That meant he had a space to retreat to when she overwhelmed him. 

“Do you think this is enough?” Her fingers were ashy with flour and sticky as she wiggled them at him. “I’d like to wash my hands.” She managed to flick some dough onto Red’s cheek, making him jump a little in surprise. That just made her laugh. And God was it good to hear her laugh. She reached out and ran a doughy finger down his jawline and jumped back. She got this delighted, mischievous look on her face and Red reached out on impulse, grabbing her and pulling her close. Lizzie’s eyes went big, her pulse quickened, and Red was almost certain she was shivering just a little bit. She wasn’t scared. 

It was almost the case of: _now that you have her, what are you going to do with her._ Lizzie leaned in a little, though, and things just went from there. He gently bumped her chin up with the side of his index finger, proud as she met his eyes without a moment’s hesitation. Almost everything in Red said that he ought to let her go. He needed to uncurl his hand from around her arm and walk away. But she was so close and so warm. And he had a question. “Why did you put on more perfume before you came out?” His fingertip brushed over her chin and down her jawline, getting a little shiver from Lizzie. Her fingers flexed and little flakes of dough fell to the tile below. 

“What?” She blinked at him then narrowed her eyes. “… you noticed that. Of course you noticed that.” Lizzie seemed a little nervous now and slipped out of his grip. _Oh thank God,_ Red thought as she stepped away. He’d been seriously doubting his ability to move away from her. She made it hard to stay a decent man. Who was he kidding, though? He wasn’t a decent man. He was just attempting to be decent, putting on a mask of decency. For her. Always for her. She went to the sink and washed her hands, putting her back to him. “You like the oil I picked up in the market our first day here.” That was true. He’d commented on it at least twice. Perfume smelled different on every woman, and this particular scent drove Red wild. He never showed her, but he felt his heart speed whenever he’d smell her. 

“I do.” Red came a little closer. “Very much so.” His fingers itched to reach out and touch the scar on her neck, to pull her collar down enough to kiss it. His poor Lizzie had too many scars. Red reached out to wipe the dough from his face with a damp cloth. “So you wore it for me?” He kept his face buried in the cloth while he asked, giving her the decency of a little privacy. She seemed to be putting things together for herself. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie was close again, her arm brushing his as she reached for the towel to dry her hands. Red reached out to brush his fingers up the inside of her wrist over her scar. “Is that a bad thing?” His heart about seized up in his chest when she asked. 

“I suppose,” he said after a beat or two for them to both catch their breath, “that depends on if you think it’s a bad thing.” She looked at him, brows knitted. She clearly just wanted him to tell her what to think. Red’s fingers itched to touch her, his lips to taste, but he stood there and let Lizzie think. 

After what felt like the longest minute of his life, Red watched her shake her head. “No, it’s not a bad thing.” Lizzie moved her hand so that it brushed his and Red closed his eyes. “This isn’t just _we’re on the run_ is it?” He swallowed thickly and shook his head. “It’s been like this for you for awhile.” He winced, but nodded. She was asking, she was receptive. Red took a breath and looked at her. “Since the beginning?” 

“Lizzie, you’ve always made this old man’s heart skip a beat.” He reached up, finally touching her. It was his fingers just skating along her jaw. Red looked at her, searching Lizzie’s eyes a moment. There wasn’t a trace of disgust there. She looked a little confused, but not upset. “It’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.” Red smiled tightly then nodded. The matter was settled in his brain. 

Apparently it wasn’t in hers. Lizzie reached out and took his face in both hands, kissing Raymond for the first time. His hands tightened so hard he thought he might sprain his pinkie, and he went tense from top to toe. She wouldn’t take that as an answer, though, so she kept kissing. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, but maybe he could control himself and not respond. Lizzie drug her teeth over his throat and Red let out an involuntary groan. She came up smiling, clearly pleased with herself. “Lizzie….” She cut him off by layering soft kisses over his mouth, eventually sucking his bottom lip in between his and nibbling. 

That was what actually put him over the edge. There was something in the way Lizzie’s teeth caught the nerves that snapped Red’s resolve. His hands had minds of their own as he reached out to wrap his arm around her waist. Lizzie came right to him, kissing him with an open mouthed moan. That this glorious creature was touching him, kissing him, that it was _her_ made Red doubt his ability to come out the other side of this unscathed. Her soft fingers trailed down his face then across his chest. Red was pinning her to him, her little groans and moans cutting through to his marrow. “Red….” Her voice had a breathy quality that got him in every conceivable way. His hand moved lower on her back, cupping up to pull her closer. There wasn’t close enough with LIzzie. He could be in her skin and it wouldn’t be close enough. 

Her sweet, soft mouth ran down his jaw and Red shuddered. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever set eyes on.” Red’s fingers ran down her back, feeling the bump of each vertebra under his fingertips. His hand settled low, just over her bottom, fingers glancing her cheek as his thumb ran back and forth. Red leaned in, kissing her throat. He took his time, finding the places that got her pulse to quicken or her breath to stall. Meanwhile his hands were learning the curve of her sides and back. He kept them above the hips and other than glancing touches to the side of her breasts, left the front of Lizzie alone. That was partially because he respected her, but also because he’d shoot anyone in the face that tried to move her away from him right now. 

Lizzie moaned his name and shuddered in his arms. He had caught a spot below her earlobe over the tendons. If he ran his teeth over it, she’d shudder for him every time. By this point Red could smell more than her perfume. He could smell _her_. Lizzie was intensely aroused and Red longed to tease that arousal until she couldn’t take a second more. Right now, though, he was attempting to be as gentlemanly as he could. And boy was she making it difficult. Lizzie pressed herself in closer, rubbing her thigh against him. “Let me take you to bed.” The eggplant and pasta could wait if she said yes. God he hoped she said yes. 

She didn’t actually say yes. His Lizzie just reached out and took his hand, tugging Red in the direction of her bedroom. She paused in the doorway, reaching behind her to untie her hair. She loosened it so his braid fell out, letting it fall in loose waves. Red reached out to stroke his fingers through it, sighing softly when it touched his fingers. “You like it better down,” Lizzie told him softly. “I notice how you look at me when I take off the scarf.” Red’s fingers continued to stroke her hair. 

“I’m glad you’ve dyed your hair dark again.” Lizzie turned her face into his touch, her lips brushing the inside of his wrist. 

“Do I look more like _your Lizzie_ again?” She’d made fun of him for calling her that once. For Red it had been a slip of the tongue that revealed far too much. For her, it had just been amusing. 

Red reached out and took her face in both hands, pulling her close to kiss her forehead. “You will always be my Lizzie.” She gave him a tug across the threshold and Red felt in his bones that there was no going back. He’d find a way to justify his weakness later. Right now Lizzie was pulling off her blouse and while Red tried to be better for her, there was only so much his heart could take. The part of his brain screamed for him to get out of the country if that was what it took not to do this. With a deep breath, he silenced that little voice and followed Lizzie into the bedroom. Her confidence would have to do for them both right now. Red was glad that his Lizzie had all the confidence in the world as she kissed him. She’d be the end of him, but what a great way to go.


End file.
